This letter finding you well is the least of my troubles.
I spend these hours daydreaming of material things I wish to own, nothingness, surfing the internet for an answer maybe I will find in youtube videos. (The setting of such days is usually the dark cave I call a room). In other words, I waste most of my days away.
Among these so-called internet adventures, a recurring thought plays in the back of my mind.
I have begun to call myself a pseudo-intellectual with most subjects, including politics, film, and the purpose of life.
But while I try to think of words to explain my pseudo intellectualness, I can't help but be annoyed by the pocket watch ticking next to me on my desk while I write this letter. I imagine myself smashing it. I need no reminder that time is going as fast as it is. At first, finding this watch, I loved the ticking sound the hands made. I pressed the button on the top of the watch, and the arm stopped turning, the ticking stopped. The watch froze, and I had frozen time. In a panic, I began to hastily press the button I had used to stop time. After minutes of pressing, I fixed it and the ticking began once more. But, like most things, after some 36 hours of dreadful ticking, the thing has started to annoy me.
After 37 hours of ticking, I lay in my bed thinking a thought that had been developing in my mind for some time.
I realized the world doesn’t revolve around me.
I realized I have no right to judge people.
Just like the way I learned that big words don't make you sound smart, only pseudo-intellectual.
But pseudo-intellectualism is interesting, isn't it?
A species meant to be wanderers, hunting and gathering to live, with no home, no way of knowing their next meal, we have developed at an astronomical rate, and instead of simply reaching for the stars we caught them and put them in glass jars simply because they looked pretty. But, our brains stayed nomadic. We still must know what's around the next corner. Until we have reached the farthest corner of the universe, we will never stop being nomads. And even then, perhaps sitting in that farthest corner of the universe, maybe alone, maybe we found company along the way, the human species will still feel a longing.
A longing to break open that corner of the universe. Earth is forgotten of course, as many ancient lands were before. The unstoppable ticking of these explorers' minds will never end. For when we looked down at our hands and raised them to the sky, we knew there was more. This innate human longing makes me think about how sad life really is. Or sad I pretend life is.
So why is it so bad to think you know more than you know? To think of yourself as more intelligent than you seem? To be a pseudointellectual? We will never have the answers to everything, and temporary answers bring comfort.
While listening to a song that brings out many emotions in me, a song played on the piano by Sviatoslav Richter, ‘Pavane For A Dead Princess’, I noticed something I had never noticed before. When turned up to the fullest extent, you can hear a sort of weeping in the background of the song, the piano playing is so loud you wouldn't usually hear it. The weeping reminds me of the cry of humans, calling out their answers to a seemingly empty sky only to be drowned out by the vastness of the universe. But comfort is here now, in the simple answers we think are right.
With my message being finished, for my last line, I shall shed my everlasting pseudo-intellectualism. Into a line which in many situations, many people like to hear. A line that in its simplest form has the greatest impact. So please, my fellow pseudo-intellectual, don't overthink it. Please keep its meaning true.
Everything will be okay.
Merriam Webster Defines "pseudo-intellectual'' as,
"A person who wants to be thought of as having a lot of intelligence and knowledge but who is not really intelligent or knowledgeable"